I am increasingly ill-motivated to update the blog. The people who need updates on my life get them regardless of LJ, and I've contemplated the virtues of simply doing away with the Communist Monkey's online space, but decided against it ( Read more... )

Back again, after an extended absence. Been busy, as my dead white men are increasingly demanding (but oh, so worth the effort!) But I digress. Although memes are not my thing, in general, this one looked like fun. (That I am procrastinating on my Euripides translation quota has nothing to do with it, of course ( Read more... )

Fighting for peace is like fucking for virginity.

I don't have the bloody time to get sick. Did the viruses miss the memo? Apparently so, because I am currently a ball of coughing, sneezing, sniffling, congested misery. Bah. 
This is very Not Good. Piles of work await me...I was supposed to be so productive this weekend too...whizz ahead with my Plato translation, get reams of Latin poetry read. ( Read more... )

It's been ages, comme toujours, but the Communist Monkey wends her way LJ-ward once again. I'm updating from my new-ish iBook...LJ is weird with Macs; apparently, I'm to download something called a client. Perhaps one of these days, when I'm feeling less technologically inept than usual. It'll have to be done, though-- without it, I can't seem to ( Read more... )

Since having returned from Germany in early July, the Communist Monkey has been holed up in a little garret in New Brunswick. There is much to be said about the garret and rest of the house, but that is a tale for another time. 
Germany was, for the most part, quite wonderful. It served, in several ways, to exacerbate my neuroses, which was the less ( Read more... )

At this time tomorrow, I shall be on a plane hurtling toward the Deutschland. The Communist Monkey looks eagerly forward to a month of learning to sprechen sie Deutsch, figuring out the intricacies of being vegetarian in sausage-country, and traipsing about medieval towers. And, of course, conversing with beautiful boys named Gunter and Helmut. (* ( Read more... )

What if Britney "Stab me" Spears decided to rework her genre? She could combine the "appeal" of Pop with the edge of Metal. This would entail dressing-up in bad-ass leather clothing, with pastel angel wings a la Victoria's Secret, and chanting (cutely, of course) stuff like "Glooooom. Dooooom. Gloomdoom-Gloomdoom. Killkillkillkill."

Pop-Metal. She ( Read more... )

A dieu, Paul Ricouer, qui etait (comme est ecrit dans Le Monde) une "humaniste aux vastes connaissances, attentif à la littérature autant qu'aux sciences humaines."

Well. I survived yet another semester from hell. And, mirabile dictu, I didn't bomb the Greek exam. Though it sure felt like it at the time. I love having my neurotic predictions of ominous outcomes disproved. Although I think that perhaps I beat myself up about Greek and Latin more than is strictly necessary. What can I say? Self-flagellation must ( Read more... )